


Rum and Mint

by mysterymistakes



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: (kinda), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Making Out, Temperature Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:01:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24344686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysterymistakes/pseuds/mysterymistakes
Summary: Dimitri thinks, for neither the first nor last time, that Claude is beautiful. His eyes wander appreciatively across the curve of his nose, the round of his cheeks, follow his jaw as he sips absentmindedly on his drink and down the column of his elegant neck to a barely-there bruise at the juncture with his shoulder. He sighs gently, breath landing in a puff on Claude’s thigh. “Hey.” Says Claude. “Like what you see?”Written for kiss day 2020!
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 2
Kudos: 71





	Rum and Mint

It’s one of those days at the end of spring that heralds the beginning of summer; not all that hot, but _humid_. It tricks you into thinking that oh, perhaps you’ll get some work done in the garden, or go for a bike ride, or open the windows and enjoy the outside from in until you actually get out and start doing something. The air slowly becomes thick, mingling with sweat and clinging to your skin like sticker residue that only the goo-gone of a cold shower can hope to ameliorate, worsened by the false-positive of a warmish breeze that floats through, the kind of slow heat that soaks itself into you and settles into your bones, rendering you sluggish and unmotivated, perhaps pleasantly so. It’s on one of these days that Dimitri finds himself splayed out on Claude’s porch, sipping idly on some type of spiked fizzy lemonade he’d been presented with upon arrival, staring at puffy clouds making their way across the clear, blue sky. From the open window above his head, he can hear Claude making his own drink and singing along to a cheesy pop tune, shaking the tumbler in time to the beat. The image of Claude in his bright, airy kitchen, light on his feet with a drink in his hand, the corners of his eyes crinkling gently as the edges of his lips turn ever so slightly upwards comes easily to Dimitri, and makes him smile too. The screen door next to him opens, and Claude steps out, golden and glowing as he is wont to be, eyes crinkled and lips upturned, the real thing so much more beautiful than the inkling of his mind’s eye could’ve come up with. Claude settles down next to him, sat against the wall. A thin novel rests on his lap, kept open by a silly cat-shaped page-weight. He sips on his drink, something garnished with a sprig of fresh mint, and comfortable silence surrounds them both like a well-loved blanket. They’re both quiet people at heart. It’s moments like these that Dimitri appreciates most, where they can simply exist in each other’s presence and know that they are loved. He finds his gaze drifting from the clouds to Claude, whose eyes are trained on the pages before him. Dimitri thinks, for neither the first nor last time, that Claude is beautiful. His eyes wander appreciatively across the curve of his nose, the round of his cheeks, follow his jaw as he sips absentmindedly on his drink and down the column of his elegant neck to a barely-there bruise at the juncture with his shoulder. He sighs gently, breath landing in a puff on Claude’s thigh.

“Hey.” Says Claude, “Like what you see?” Dimitri breathes out a laugh, nods. Claude grins, reaching to run his thumb along Dimitri’s jaw, smile softening when he turns to kiss his palm. “Thinking about anything?”

“Mm,” Dimitri says to Claude’s fingers before they slide away to tangle in his hair, “Only about how lucky I am to be yours.” No matter how many times he says it, butterflies never fail to make themselves at home in Dimitri’s stomach at such cheesy admonitions, but he knows Claude loves to hear them, and if he’s being honest with himself, he loves saying them too. The hand in his hair lazily brings him up, prompting him to fall forward towards Claude.

“I don’t know,” he says, glancing from Dimitri’s eyes to his lips and back again, “I think I made out like a bandit.” The space between them disappears, sealed in a sweet kiss. Dimitri doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of kissing Claude. He’s always warm, solid, welcoming. Even though they’re simply sat on the porch, shifting gently as they continue, the sweet softness of Claude’s lips sends a familiar heat down his spine. Their kisses are much like the day; relaxed, unhurried, loving. They break apart, lids heavy and smiles sated, and Dimitri tucks his head into the crook of Claude’s shoulder. He drinks in the smell of his skin, the faint lavender of his body wash and the shea of his moisturizer. They stay like that, entwined on the sun-warm stone, sipping gently at their drinks until Claude shifts, taking Dimitri’s chin in one hand to pull him forward again, but this time when they meet something cold is pushed against Dimitri’s lips. He opens up in surprise with a little gasp, and the ice cube follows Claude’s tongue into his mouth. A shiver shoots through him. It, or maybe Claude, tastes of good rum and fresh mint. Between their tongues and the ice, Dimitri’s mouth is full, too hot and too cold. He groans quietly. The book in Claude’s lap falls to the ground as he moves to straddle Dimitri, grinding gently down onto his hips. He pulls back to admire his work. Dimitri is flushed, his hair a little mussed, strong hands resting at the waistband of Claude’s track pants. The ice cube is still in his mouth. Claude leans forward, kisses him, licks at the seam of his lips in a tease before dragging his cold tongue along the hot curve of Dimitri’s jaw. “Don’t let it melt,” he says low into Dimitri’s ear. Dimitri swallows as Claude leaves cool little kisses down the column of his neck, trying to keep down the runoff from the ice cube as it threatens to spill over and leak from his lips. He whines high in his throat as Claude nips here and there, leaving fleeting marks as he keeps moving his hips. They’re both half hard by the time the chilly ice melt finally makes its escape from Dimitri’s mouth, dripping down his chin and neck and soaking into the cotton of his tee. Claude’s tongue follows back up the trail it leaves, laving over Dimitri’s adam’s apple when he swallows again. He brings his hands to Dimitri’s face, holding him like he’s the most precious thing in the world (which, to Claude, he absolutely is) and kisses him again. Now, Dimitri’s tongue is cold as it slides again against Claude’s, pushing the ice cube back from where it came. Claude smiles against him and pulls back again, rubbing his thumbs over Dimitri’s cheekbones when he tries to chase his lips, and crunches down. “Good.” He says. Dimitri flushes, warm all over, and pulls Claude back down for one more earnest kiss, grinding pointedly up against his ass.

“Inside.” Dimitri says, gravelly, slipping his arms underneath Claude’s thighs, hoisting them both up when he gets a nod. The screen door closes with a bang behind them. _Yeah,_ they both think, _I’m pretty lucky._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! i can be found on [twitter](https://twitter.com/mysterymistakes)


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